


Baking Fever

by truthtakestime



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Melinda May Is a Good Bro, Nostalgia, and sometimes he misses his friends, hijinks and shenanigans, may is a good and supportive bff, obscure holiday inn reference, phil is a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/pseuds/truthtakestime
Summary: Phil was covered in a fine dusting of flour, and a few eggs seemed the worse for wear on the non-slip tile floor.He looked up when May cleared her throat. Very little seemed to faze the Director anymore, but the look on his face waspureguilt.“I was baking them for a friend!” he blurted out.
Relationships: Phil Coulson & Melinda May
Kudos: 7





	Baking Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for Christmas for someone like five years ago, I always forget it was a thing but I always like stumbling over it. Coulson misses his team, his first kids, and I like acknowledging that. This was set somewhere in season two I believe (i am MANY seasons behind now which I should really fix since my job is closed indefinitely), because that was what I was in the middle of at the time.

The base kitchens were not a place frequented by non-kitchen staff. That is to say, the area was _restricted_ to anyone by actual kitchen staff except by express command. Which had been entirely Trip and Hunter’s fault. _They_ were the ones who had actually made the fryer go boom that one time.

(That was actually how the rest of the base referred to the debacle. “The Incident Where the Fryer Went Boom”.)

It was somewhat of a surprise, therefore, that during a random security sweep one night, May came up on the director himself in the culinary Eden. He was covered in a fine dusting of flour, and a few eggs seemed the worse for wear on the non-slip tile floor. 

Phil looked up when she cleared her throat. Very little seemed to faze the Director anymore, but the look on his face was _pure_ guilt. Which was amusing, actually. 

“I was baking them for a friend!” he blurted out. 

Come to think of it, May _did_ notice some pretty enticing smells floating around. “And what exactly are you baking?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. This was all very unusual; but then, nothing was really unusual anymore, was it? As long as it wasn’t alien mind control or possession or more of that implanted message crap. 

“Pies. Well, pies and cookies. Pies are in the oven right now; it’s, ah... Natasha used to make them.” 

May allowed herself to relax. This was a nostalgia thing. He got in these moods sometimes -- never around the kids, of course -- and he would deal with it on his own time and move on. But the baking thing was new. 

“Do the pies explode?” she asked dryly, because he _had_ just mentioned them being Romanoff’s idea. 

She wasn’t really expecting him to nod an affirmative. 

“They’re not dangerous,” he rushed to assure her. “They just sort of... pop. Like canned peaches gone bad.” 

“And how would you know what --”

“It’s an old movie. Nevermind.” 

She would take his word for it. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked. 

Phil paused to consider that for a minute. “I think so, yes. It does get difficult sometimes, especially around the holidays... were things, they were my team. These kids are great, but sometimes I wish I could just call Nat or Barton and spill the whole story. I understand why I can’t, of course -- and it’s probably safer for my health at this point because they would probably kill me again for not telling them sooner -- but a guy can have regrets. The baking usually helps.” 

May bit her lip. “I meant when the kitchen staff finds you here.” 

“Oh.” He ducked his head, suddenly incredibly focused on making the dough he was rolling perfectly even. “Well… I suppose a little help never hurt. Stick around and help me finish and erase my presence here before Cook has my head served as tomorrow night’s dinner?” 

The security sweep was pretty much done, anyways. What would it hurt to help an old friend in need? “Yes, sir.” She rolled up her sleeves and approached carefully. She was quietly aware that she was being invited into a very private moment, and was doing her best to appear unaware of that. “I’ve gotta warn you, I was a pretty mean baker back in my day.” 

“I didn’t know that you could cook?” 

“Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my street cred.” 

Phil laughed, and that was good to hear. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

“It had better be. Now let’s get started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Natasha's pies, naturally, are made to go pop.


End file.
